


Sings the tune without the words

by Amatara



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Deliberately Vague Endings, First Kiss, First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Goodbyes, M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 07:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10872453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amatara/pseuds/Amatara
Summary: Albert and Dale, before and after. Chronicle of a relationship.





	Sings the tune without the words

**Author's Note:**

> Desperately trying to write some more fic about these two before the new season Josses us all. Can be read as canon-compliant or AU, depending on interpretation.

*

The first time he meets Dale Cooper, Albert’s just exchanged his vest for a lab coat, picked out a pair of abdominal scissors, and checked any trace of empathy at the door. ‘Don’t bring your feelings to an autopsy’ is rule number one of surviving the job without cracking, which Albert has no intention of doing. The only emotion he allows himself in here is anger: righteous, cleansing and razor-sharp.

Which is exactly what he feels when he finds a stranger in his lab, holding hands with his Jane Doe like they're old lovers.

For a second or two, Albert stands frozen. Then the rational part of his brain takes over and he barges in, blood boiling. He may be sworn to pacifism but a pushover he’s not, so he feels no remorse about grabbing the other guy’s lapel and physically dragging him away from the slab.

Only then does he realize the man’s lips were moving. They still are, despite Albert’s harsh treatment, and his eyes are locked on the corpse with a quiet intensity that leaves Albert feeling like _he_ ’s the intruder, which is the most ridiculous thought he’s ever had in his life.

“All right,” he starts, taking a breath. “I don’t know who the hell you are and what you think you’re doing here, but -”

“Doctor Rosenfield?” A head swivels. Fawn-colored eyes blink and then focus on him, a hand stuck out into space between them as if this, not Albert’s intervention, is the first physical gesture they exchange. Albert ignores it coldly. “Special Agent Dale Cooper. I'm so pleased to meet you.”

Albert clenches his jaw. If this guy thinks he can launch some kind of charm offensive against him, he'd better think again. “Wait. I think I missed the part of your sentence where you apologized for trespassing in my lab and screwing around with a perfectly good corpse…”

“She’s not a ‘good corpse’, Albert, she’s a woman.” Cooper’s voice oozes disappointment. With _him,_ Albert can tell, and how the hell that happened or why they’re on a first-name basis now is beyond him, but he doesn’t need to just stand here and take it.

“I don’t care if she’s Cinderella. I was ordered to cut her open and you, Agent Cooper, are in my way, so -”

“She was troubled. Her soul adrift. She died alone, with no one to anchor her, so I did what I could,” Cooper interrupts, in a tone that suggests he might as well be addressing a three-year old. “I apologize if I inconvenienced you, but it was necessary. I was passing by in the corridor and heard her cry out for help, as clearly as if she were next to me. It was impossible not to answer that call.”

Nothing in those words makes one scrap of sense, but there’s something tucked away behind Cooper’s expression that makes the hairs stand up on the back of Albert’s neck. “For fuck's sake, she’s been on ice for days.” He punctuates the statement with a _snip_ of his scissors. “Dead people don’t cry out for help, Cooper. The living might, which is why I’m in this line of work in the first place. Your Jane Doe here is beyond rescue, but if I find out who killed her, there's a chance I might be able to save someone else.”

“I see.” And now Cooper has the gall to sound sympathetic, which takes the damn cake. Albert gulps down a breath, about to let loose with a blistering retort, when a hand is raised in front of his face. “That will do, Albert. Thank you again for bearing with me.” And there’s that damn sympathy again, mixed in now with… regret? “I do realize your work is important to you. As I assure you my own work is to me, but for the record, if my soul were ever in need of saving…” Cooper sighs, then turns his back with finality. “I only hope, for both our sakes, it doesn't end up in your hands.”

*

  
Albert pours his third coffee in about as many minutes, hoping against hope it’ll taste better than the last one. Or that by now, at least, his taste buds will have deteriorated past the point where he’s going to care. Not that it matters. He just needs to stay awake till those lab results come in, at which point it’ll be back to work anyway… so if he has to drink the equivalent of motor oil to stay lucid, well, that’s how it’s going to have to be.

“This sucks. Doesn’t it?” Albert drags his palms across his cheekbones, fighting the urge to scrub at already bloodshot eyes. Across from him, his fellow worshiper at the questionable altar of the coffee maker glances up from the cup in his hand.

“The coffee?” Cooper’s voice is light, but Albert can hear the strain in it just the same. “It’s not the best, I agree.”

“Not the coffee.” Albert rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine, the coffee too, but I meant… all of this. Standing around. Waiting. Not being able to act. We got a child molester on the loose, probably itching to make a new victim, but we can’t catch the bastard unless we know who he is, and I don’t…” He trails off, chewing the air in frustration. “How do you do it, Cooper? You’re a field agent; you know how the waiting game works. How can you go through that and not lose your mind, or at least your objectivity?”

“The truth?” Cooper props himself against the wall with one shoulder; a rare departure from propriety for him. “I don’t know. Do I not lose my objectivity? You’ve been known to accuse me of exactly that.” He _tsk_ s, not unkindly, when Albert starts to sputter. “I don’t mean it in a derogatory way, Albert, you could well have been right. But I might ask you the same. This is hardly your first rodeo, and I’ve never seen you crack under pressure. So how do _you_ do it, then?”

“The truth?” Albert echoes Cooper’s words. “Easy as cake. Or at least it ought to be. You treat the corpses as corpses. Or as puzzles, at best, waiting to be solved, and when you solve them, if you’re lucky, the prize you win is no one else gets killed. When you fail…” He swallows, suddenly desperate to get the taste of coffee out of his mouth. “There’s a reason I don’t get out of the lab, Cooper. Same reason I don’t go out of my way to make friends here. My objectivity is the best weapon I got, and I know it seems like it all comes naturally, the sarcasm, the emotional distance, but…” He trails off, breath sticking in his throat. “I always say I’m sworn to pacifism, and I’m serious, but God help me, you better not put me face to face with that child-murdering monster, or…”

“Or you’d do whatever needs to be done to put him away for life, as is just and proper. I’ve never doubted your ethics, Albert.”

That makes one of them, at least. “Yeah, well, we better catch this guy then. For that I need those soil samples, stomach contents analyses, tox screen…”

“I’m sure the people at the lab are working as hard as they can,” Cooper says, his tone gentle. “And I’ll do whatever it takes, you know that.”

“Yeah.” Albert sighs. “I know. I’m just terrified we’ll be too late.” _Terrified,_ not _worried_ or even plain _scared,_ and that he just used that word in front of Cooper is too telling to even contemplate.

“We do what we can, Albert. What happens next is out of our hands.” Cooper lowers his now-finished coffee, reaches out towards Albert’s arm. “I’m sorry.” Cautious fingers close on his sleeve, and the warmth in Cooper’s eyes is so profound and sudden that Albert doesn’t have a clue what he did to deserve it.

“Sorry for what?” he says, feeling like an idiot for having to ask.

“Judging you unfairly. For a while, I thought you only cared about the job, not the victims. It was wrong of me to presume. I still don’t have you quite figured out… but I know enough to see your heart is pure, and your love could move mountains, if need be.”

“Oh? You know that, don’t you?” Albert is barely able to keep the shock out of his voice. He’s had enough exposure to Cooper’s wacky pronouncements that most of them don’t even make a dent in his armor, but this time, he actually feels the blood rush to his cheeks - and for what? Dale Cooper, saying Albert may be less of a bastard than he thought. Contact the world press! Alert the news! They could make the headlines with this! "Cooper, I go through a great deal of trouble to get people to believe I don’t give a damn. It saves me both time and effort, so do me a favor, will you?” He takes an unsteady breath. “Don’t shatter the illusion for anybody else.”

“Point taken, Albert. Your secret's safe with me.” Cooper’s hand on his arm squeezes firmly, holds the contact for a moment before letting go. “We’re in this together now. I give you my word.” Which is a promise as easily made as forgotten, but given how the memory of that brief touch lingers, Albert thinks he might believe it yet.

*

“C’mere. ‘s Okay. We got this.” Cooper’s voice sounds drunk with longing, despite him being stone-cold sober; a fact Albert knows because he is, too, and so the press of Cooper’s hands on his cheekbones hacks into him like a chisel into stone.

They solved a case. That’s all there is to it. They solved a case that had them stuck for weeks in a crappy motel at the back end of nowhere, and when the local force called to say they made the arrest, Albert practically tore the phone out of the poor receptionist’s hand. He’ll never forget Cooper’s face when, giddy with relief, Albert swept him up and swung him around and, putting him back onto his feet, realized he either made a terrible mistake or the best impulsive decision of his life.

Heading back up the stairs, Cooper’s face held a revelation, his eyes wide as saucers and incomparably bright. It was the kind of look you only saw in movies, hopelessly sappy ones at that, and Albert’s a far cry from being a movie star, so there was no reason at all for Coop to follow him into his room or to take his hand as they crossed the threshold… or to kiss him, breathlessly, catching Albert’s face in his hands like it was the most precious possession in the world.

Yeah - Cooper kissed _him_ , not the other way around, which seems so far out of the realm of possibility that Albert can barely process it. But it happened, and he’s still coming to grips with how it makes him feel - which is shaken, overwhelmed, frightened, joyful, ecstatic. He can’t count the number of times he secretly fantasized about this happening, except in his head he’d be the one initiating it, wrapping Coop into his arms and making that cheeky mouth go slack with bliss. But it’s Cooper’s hands doing the work now, tugging at Albert’s belt with eager fingers, and Albert has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back what would have been a barely dignified whimper.

“Coop…” he mutters, allowing his own hands to roam Cooper’s waist and hips, torn between the compulsion to let his eyes flutter shut and reluctance to miss even a second of it. “As much as I’m enjoying this, I gotta ask: you do realize professional satisfaction isn’t usually consummated in this man… _ngh._ ” Cooper’s hand has worked its way down Albert’s pants, and the exhilaration that floods his eyes is enough to make the last pitiful remnants of Albert’s defenses crumble. He’s never seen a man look so happy at encountering an erection before, and the part of his brain still capable of vocalizing reacts instinctively to wipe the smirk off Cooper’s face. “You like that, do you?” he grunts. “Buddy, I got news for you. I haven’t kept track of the number of people I’ve seen having that same reaction to your presence, but I guarantee it's not just me,” and then he shuts up before he digs himself a hole he won’t be able to talk himself out of again. Instead he drags his lips across the edge of Cooper’s jaw, locks a hand around the back of his neck and kisses him till he can’t breathe. Which is as good a way to put an end to the smirking as any, and it gives Albert a moment to think.

The truth is, for all his displays of exuberance, Cooper isn’t a carefree man. Anyone carrying that kind of baggage would have broken under it years ago, but Coop didn’t just refuse to break, he looked the universe straight in the eye and swore that, no matter what it did to him, he’d never stop believing in its goodness. And then went on to set the example. As deeply as Albert loves him, he’d never do anything to endanger his worldview. Until now, that meant keeping his attentions strictly professional, because if there’s anyone who deserves better, it’s Coop. But recently, something’s shifted in their dynamic. Could be as subtle as a new gleam in Cooper’s eye, or the way his gaze has been lingering on Albert for a little longer than it used to. Either way, Albert may recognize the symptoms, but that doesn't mean he can wrap his head around the cause.

“We’re doing fine, Albert. Trust me,” Cooper murmurs, likely noticing the tension in his stance. As if it’s Albert who needs reassurance; Albert who's running the risk here, not him. Albert’s ego may be fragile, but no heart is as tender and bruised as Coop’s, and the moment he feels himself being led towards the bed, there’s no way he can let that pass without at least trying to save his friend from himself.

“Wait. Coop…" He catches Cooper’s shoulders, turns him back around in his arms. “Here’s the deal, all right? I won’t claim to have loved you since the day we met, ‘cause we both know I hated your guts back then, but God knows you’ve proven me wrong. So yeah. _I’m_ doing just dandy. And I won’t try to pretend I haven’t been hoping for something like this moment for years, but…” He swallows. “Why now, Coop? Why the hell _me_?”

“Because you’re a good man,” Coop says -  his tone the equivalent of ‘how can you possibly not know that?’ which is as Cooper as they come. “Isn’t that reason enough?”

The answering bark of laughter is as Albert as _they_ come, but the taste in his mouth is acid. “Please. Even a born-and-bred cynic like me has to admit there’s plenty of good men around. Women, too, for that matter. Most of ‘em better than me, according to the definition of ‘better’ I think you have in mind, and I don’t see you sleeping with all of them, so...”

“Better than you? Not possible.” Cooper’s eyes are brimming with fondness - for _him,_ Albert realizes, feeling faint at the thought - and the smile he gives Albert is soft and private. “I don’t know anyone as firmly rooted in this world as you are, or more committed to personal integrity. Your heart is pure and righteous. When I’m with you, I feel… joyful. Anchored. Whole. If that’s not goodness, I don’t know what is. I would trust you with my life, Albert, and that’s no lie either.”

“It’s not, isn’t it?” Albert says, while he tries to remember how to breathe. Coming from anyone else, such a shower of compliments would be shady as hell, but this is Cooper, who couldn’t tell a proper joke if his life depended on it, let alone a straight-faced lie. “How about first impressions?” he tries, knowing he’s picking at scabs, but unable to stop himself. “I thought yours were never wrong, and I clearly remember you telling me you hoped I’d never be responsible for saving…”

“… my soul?” The word is a whisper, and the moment he hears it, feeling the press of Cooper’s body against him, Albert knows there’s no turning back. “Yes, I remember. I was wrong.”

 *

  
“So. This is it, huh?” Albert perches on a kitchen chair, doing his best to stay out of the way for as long as it takes Cooper to finish packing. “The big case, the one Gordon assigned to you personally?”

“Yes.” Cooper frowns and pauses, then goes back to laying out his clothes on the increasingly cramped tabletop. It’s hard to get through to Coop when he’s focused like this, so Albert just sits and watches him fold his socks and underwear before giving it another shot.

“Doesn’t seem all that big to me,” he says, hoping to provoke a reaction but not actually trying to bruise. “One murdered high-school girl? Tragic as it is, we get those by the dozen. What’s so special about this one?”

That, at least, gets Cooper’s attention. Looking up from his now half-filled suitcase, he gives Albert a tolerant smile. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, Albert. All Gordon said was THIS GIRL COULD BE SIGNIFICANT, which means he knows something, but…"

“… intends to sit on it rather than sharing.” Albert snorts. “Right. What else is new? I’m telling you, Coop, one of these days Gordon’s mystery games are gonna land you in serious trouble. The kind you can’t dig yourself out of, and if we’re lucky, you’ll just end up in a hospital bed instead of a coffin, but…” He breathes out compulsively and clamps his lips shut. A field agent’s life is risk-prone by definition, especially when working for Gordon Cole, but Albert has resolved not to be _that_ kind of guy to openly fret about his partner’s safety. Which doesn’t mean he won’t indulge in all the private fretting he needs; just that he’ll try to spare Cooper from it. Emphasis on _try,_ because heaven knows Coop can push a man to his limits sometimes.

To his surprise, Cooper makes no attempt to defend himself. Instead he leans against the table near Albert, dragging a weary hand through his hair. “I won’t lie to you, Albert. Ever since being assigned to this case, I’ve had the strangest feeling. I can’t tell whether it’s for good or ill, but I do believe I’m on the threshold of something. A secret, or a revelation…”

“Okay,” Albert says, intervening before Cooper’s rambling devolves into something he can’t make heads or tails of. “So what level of strange are we talking about? Weirder than your usual fare? A little weirder? A _lot_?” And hell if talking to Cooper about this stuff doesn’t feel as elusive as trying to diagnose a sock puppet, but that doesn’t mean Albert intends to stop trying.

“A lot… I think,” Cooper says, his frown deepening. “But it’s not an exact science, Albert. I’m sorry. I wish there was something more I could give you…”

“Should I be concerned?” Albert cuts him off.

“Always.” Cooper’s grin starts out teasing, then fades into a thin-lipped smile. “But you’ve known that since the day we met.”

“Fair enough,” Albert admits, and gets to his feet. “I knew the kind of deal I was getting into, so I won’t ask for my money back, don’t worry.” He’s joking, of course. Even if theirs was an exclusive deal, which it isn’t, and even if he himself was any better at this relationship thing, life with Dale Cooper isn’t something anyone could have been prepared for. “Want me to tag along?” he offers, already half braced for what the answer will be. “I could bribe Gordon to let me.”

“Thank you, Albert.” And there’s his answer, tucked between the folds of Cooper’s oh-so-gentle words, which radiate ‘ _but_ ’ even if they don’t say so. “I promise when I need your insight, I’ll call. But for now, I think I should do this alone.”

Albert sighs, making no effort to mask his reaction. Cooper can read him like a book anyway, and he knows perfectly well his premonitions give Albert the creeps, just as Albert knows there’s not a single thing he can do about them. In lieu of an answer, he slides one hand up Cooper’s arm, cupping the edge of his jaw with the other. He isn’t sure who initiates the kiss, but when it ends, Cooper’s hands are on his cheeks, his lower lip still grazing Albert’s mouth, and Albert feels like he’s just lost the best thing he’s ever been privileged to have in his life. Which is ridiculous, because Coop isn’t even gone yet. “I wish-” he starts, but there’s no way he can finish that sentence without making an utter fool of himself, so best to spare them both the attempt.

“You wish you’d fallen in love with a normal person?” Cooper says, sounding only half in jest.

“Fuck, no,” Albert says. “For one thing, that person wouldn’t be you, and believe it or not, ‘you’ is an aspect of this thing we’ve got going that I’ve grown quite attached to. But I wish we could do some things normal people do. Go bowling. Take a vacation. Retire and move to a condo in the desert, or near the ocean…”

“You hate the ocean,” Cooper points out. “The gulls, remember? But the desert might be an option.” His thumb brushes lightly across Albert’s cheek. “Someday, maybe. Ask me again in thirty years or so.”

“If we’re both still alive.” Albert shrugs.

Cooper nods solemnly. “I know there are no definitives in life, Albert, but I will certainly endeavor to try.”

And because he’s never looked more beautiful than in that moment, and Albert isn’t sure if his heart can bear the sight of it much longer, he folds Cooper into his arms, pretending for one moment that might keep him here. They’ll be fine. Just because Coop is feeling funny about this case doesn’t mean it has to end in tears. “Don’t get carried away, all right?” he grumbles. "Or at least call me before you do. If not, I’ll be right here when you get home.”

“Home is not a place, Albert.” Cooper’s voice is muffled against his shoulder, his hands coming together at the small of Albert’s back.

“Don’t tell me. Home is a feeling?” Albert grumbles, aiming for a cynicism he can’t bring himself to match.

“I’d say… it is the path all dreams converge on,” Cooper muses, as if quoting some ancient piece of poetry. “But if it helps, Albert - you are a beacon in the darkness, and I can’t imagine ever not finding my way back to you.”

  
*

  
The night they leave Twin Peaks for the last time, Albert doesn’t dare to feel hopeful. It takes him till daybreak, with a good few hundred miles behind them, to risk pulling over to stretch his legs, and even then, he’s back behind the wheel in five minutes flat.

He ditched his rental car in town. Hawk promised he’d handle it, to save him the detour through Seattle. Big Ed sold him an old pickup instead - an eyesore if Albert ever saw one, but it does the job. At least the seats are comfortable enough for Cooper to nap in: passed out on the passenger side, chin tucked into his chest, his sleeping expression already looks more peaceful than at any point before they left.

Which is the whole purpose of this little escapade - the first truly off-the-cuff thing Albert’s done in years, for reasons he can’t begin to explain to himself. All he knows is he had to get Cooper out of there, and buy him the one thing he desperately needs right now: time. Time to heal, regroup, recover, maybe put back together some of the things that got broken. Sure, he could’ve booked them a flight to Philly, but that would have meant the Bureau breathing down their necks, and Albert could no less subject Cooper to that than guarantee he could handle it himself.

So he's driving. South, away from the cold and the mountains and the fucking _trees,_ which he’s seen enough of for several lifetimes. Cooper sleeps through the night and most of the day that follows, and for as long as he’s sleeping, Albert drives on. He’ll figure out where he’s heading once he gets there. They cross the border into Nevada in the early evening, and when he finally has to stop for fear of nodding off, they're halfway across the state on a deserted stretch of highway, bluffs and desert as far as the eye can see.

He bought a tent and gear in town, just in case. That, and he’s carrying cash for a month’s worth of motel rooms, but exhaustion wins out on his craving for comfort, and they spend that first night in the back of the truck.

A city boy through and through, Albert can count on one hand the times he’s seen the Milky Way. Can’t recall ever being too impressed by it either. But it’s there in full brilliance now, a subtle reminder there’s more to the universe than just this sorry, struggling world. For a moment, before he drifts off, Albert actually feels lifted by the thought. The tarp he used as a mattress is hell on his back, and his sleeping companion keeps poking limbs and elbows into his chest, but all of that is a small price to pay for freedom - his, and Cooper’s most of all. The Earth will keep turning without them. For as long as it takes to make things right. 

When he jolts awake, with no awareness of time, it’s to Cooper’s spine arching as he chokes on a cry.

Albert curses and rolls over onto his stomach, easing a shaking Coop down onto the tarp. “Hey… Breathe, now. You’re safe. It's all right.” Which is obviously short for ‘nothing’s all right, but we’ll do our damnedest to work around it’, and if that doesn’t win a contest for most pathetic attempt at reassurance, Albert will eat his tie. But it’s all he’s got, and it seems to be doing the trick. Cooper’s breathing is evening out, his face slack with relief when Albert leans over him. He can see the stars strewn across Cooper’s eyes, desperate and stubborn and hopeful all at the same time.

“I can’t help it, Albert,” Cooper groans softly. “The dreams… It’s as if something is trying to pull me back under, and I won’t let it, I’ve sworn not to let it, but I don’t know if I can fight…”

“Yeah. You can,” Albert says, trying to make himself feel the conviction, let it seep through into his voice. “And if you can’t, I sure as hell will. I know I can’t keep you from dreaming, but I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

A hand reaches up for Albert’s cheekbone, icy fingertips grazing his skin. “You came for me,” Cooper breathes. “I didn’t know it was possible, but you proved it. You’re… so much more than I could have hoped for, Albert, and I don’t know how I can ever repay -”

“How 'bout by hanging in there?” Albert mutters, smoothing Cooper’s forehead with his palm. It feels clammy, but there is no fever, and he’s sounding almost lucid now, which is a start. “I’m no saint, Coop. I did what I could, but I won’t pretend it was nearly enough. Gordon Cole be damned, I shouldn’t have let you go to that place alone, and I was a fool to leave again. Sorry it took me so long to find you.”

“Albert…” Cooper’s voice is steeped in tenderness. “In my mind, you never left.”

 

*

 


End file.
